


Smile

by Mimic_Teruyo



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Angst, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 13:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18941959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimic_Teruyo/pseuds/Mimic_Teruyo
Summary: It's vital for living gods to know how to smile.





	Smile

You smile.

It comes naturally to you. Your parents say you were a cheerful baby, and you know you were a bubbly little girl, full of energy and easy laughter. Their special little girl, upholding the sacred bloodline as though it weighs less than air.

So you smile. It's a real smile more often than it's faked. You find it simple to be forthright, striving onwards where your more bashful friends claim they would never dare to tread. You have a reputation for honesty without the stigma carried by those whose truths are ill favoured.

And if your honesty is less complete than it looks to the outside, what of it? It would be a strange world if everyone always showed their true faces.

Sometimes you meet people who think because you are both god and human you are somehow split in two. It's not like you have a goddess half and a human half: it's all you, mingled together in a single comfortable identity, which feels so natural it only ever comes to your attention when someone else brings it up. What's so strange about being both student and shrine maiden? You embrace both duties and make them one reality.

And you smile.

No-one actually said you couldn't read comics or play video games, and you are dimly aware it really wouldn't be such a big a deal even if you revealed just how deep your interest in them goes. And yet, you keep hiding the time you spend with your hobbies, the ghost of the shame you felt when you snuck in your first magazine of manga for adults haunting you to this day. Big deal or not, it would be better to showcase those parts of yourself that best fit the mould of a divine descendant. You have a reputation to maintain; not yours, but that of the Moriya Shrine.

Some of it slips out, sometimes, especially when your friends are truthful about their passions. You don't look down on them, even if you rarely allow yourself to throw yourself into the excitement as they do. You mostly keep your chats to a surface level and only show the true extent of your momentary obsessions to a select few people.

And never ever dream of breathing of the secret collection at the back of your closet, still wound in the shrink wraps they originally came in when you bought them from the other side of town, eyes darting all the while.

You have made it clear you don't think poorly of those who read those kinds of comics. As far as your friends know, your taste in romance is the tamest on this side of fluffy bunnies, but you are willing to tolerate a lot, more than many of those around you, and see nothing wrong in fantasies, even if some go beyond what you can personally stomach.

Nor do you think girls who do what those girls in the comics do are bad people. Love is love. The birthrate may go down a little, but, really, who are they hurting? It's just that you aren't personally into that sort of thing.

And you weren't, not when you first said as much.

And as you smile and bask in your friends' kindness, you think, oh, how you think, that if you had been honest from the beginning, you wouldn't have your heart shredded into pieces if you ever revealed your entire self to another person.

 

* * *

 

Gensokyo is a culture shock, in more ways than one.

Some things you knew to expect, like the lack of electricity and the difference in sanitation, but all the ways it alters your life still makes your hairs stand on end.

But the bigger problem is the difference in behaviours. Yes, you knew a world where youkai roamed the earth and all but ruled the land would be different, but you never guessed _how_ different. People here think computers are shikigami and that fifty people is a crowd. Everything is so static while also moving too fast, and the drinking is so constant and heavy it's a miracle anyone ever gets anything done.

You think Lady Kanako is surprised, too. She expected, perhaps, a warmer welcome. Not that she shows her feelings as she rolls up her sleeves and begins carving herself a big enough a space in this new world. Lady Suwako... truth be told, you never know what Lady Suwako really thinks. But she smiles. People back home said your smile is like hers.

For the first time in your life, you feel a disconnect between your two halves. It's easier to follow the goddess side of the equation, think less of the world you have lost and the bizarreness of your new reality, and instead surrender to your duties. You go a bit crazy, really, but that only seems to help you come across more like a native. _"We're all mad here."_

And you smile. You made your decision, and you would make it again. You knew you were giving up on many creature comforts, including the safe haven of the internet and all the pseudonyms and anonymity that shield you from any consequences when detailing your conflicted feelings.

Yes, you knew, and decided you would enter Gensokyo as the pure and flawless shrine maiden, dutiful and divine above all. It wouldn't be a mask, but the real you, the entirety of you. You would simply cast aside all less than reproachable parts of yourself like you did your excess luggage. No-one would ever find out anything shameful about you, because there would be nothing to be ashamed of. It would be a rebirth, of sorts.

You come to like Gensokyo. It's full of hideous beauty and treacherous safety, excitement and adventure and moments of pure tranquillity. And you love to fly.

And you smile.

 

* * *

 

And then there's her.

At first, you simply think her strange, as deranged as the world she purports to protect, but also honest beyond what most people are capable of. Blunt and uncompromising, but not without empathy or kindness. A pillar, an anchor, a stability in an unbalanced world.

The more you come to know her, the more you come to see her as your distorted mirror. No, she isn't lying, much like you weren't, but her smile is only a fragment of her, her bluntness masking... what, exactly? She is forever drifting, flying without a clear purpose or goal. And yet she is focused, like she too has more than one person within herself.

It's clear from Marisa's demeanour during her more serious moments that she also doesn't know for certain who Reimu really is, but you don't let that deter you. You don't have to know everything about her to know you like her. You're certain that if she ever gives name to whatever lurks in the darkest depths of her mind, you will be able to accept it.

Whether she would accept your darkness is another question entirely.

And so you smile, and let the parts of you most fitting for your new environment stay on the surface. Let them think you're brash. Let them even think you're a bit simple. Let them think you're so honest you cannot keep a single thing that pops to your mind from your face.

It's as easy as letting the winds carry you. After all, you _are_ an honest person.

You smile.

 

* * *

 

Your best opportunity comes on a sleepy August evening, as the long day slowly transforms into a starlit night.

You're at her shrine, to see if the branch shrine is being properly maintained (it is), and are now trying to enjoy the drink Reimu offered (why is it always sake with these people?). You don't talk much. It's a silence like a soft blanket, and it makes you want to lay your head on the porch and close your eyes, drifting to slumber to the sound of chirruping cicadas.

She notices. She smiles.

You like her smile, and you tell her as much, the words slipping out like they couldn't wait to join the night air. She responds with a chuckle and a sip from her drink. She's in a really good mood. You think. So are you. You think.

You take a moment to study her face. From this close up, you can count each individual eyelash, and see the vague outlines of where there will one day be laugh lines. She does smile a lot, really, but somehow, the more subdued, fond way she now regards the emerging stars seems more authentic than ever.

And you think, and you think, that whoever can smile like that and mean it can't possibly have the kind of rottenness and evil within her that all humans have, and yet she must have if she is even half as human as you are.

And you think, and you think, of all the things you would like to tell her about yourself, about all your secrets, everything about your past life, and just how much she means to you and how you would like to stay like this forever, with her by your side and so close you barely have to move to stroke her hair and sing words of love into her ear. You think how this is the best chance you're ever going to have to give her your heart, and how if you won't do it now you probably won't do it before one of you is dead.

And you say nothing.

And you smile, and you smile, and you pretend you can't feel your heart slowly cracking into pieces right where it should be safe in your chest.


End file.
